


L4D:  Behind Bars

by RitWrites



Category: Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Alternate Universe - Prison, F/M, Friendship, Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RitWrites/pseuds/RitWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison AU.  Ellis is locked up for something he never intended to do.  Stuck in maximum security, Ellis meets an interesting group of people made up of both fellow convicts and prison staff, alike, with one particular con with a hidden secret piquing his curiosity.  Challenges arise and friendships form, as Ellis tries to survive his time behind bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was never supposed to be like this. He had never intended to  _steal_  the car. He was only going to borrow it.

Perhaps he had borrowed it a little longer than intended. But once behind the wheel of a stock car as magical as Jimmy Gibbs Jr.'s, you don't just let go. Now Ellis was being ushered out of a state funded prison van, straight into the arms of Hell, itself.

Ellis moved slowly, the smoldering Georgia heat pricking at his skin, as the group of new convicts that he was linearly cuffed to shambled to the prison entrance. The bold, black letters reading, "GEORGIA STATE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY" gleamed overhead. He looked around, heart thumping wildly. The deed had been done, the trial had been fought, and he had been convicted guilty.

Three years for grand theft auto. With good behavior that is. Ellis could still hardly believe it. He, the polite, twenty-three year old country boy, was going to prison.

Sweat drenched Ellis’ body, soaking right through the ill-fitted gray uniform he had been given. His sandy blond curls stuck to his forehead, and he could feel the skin against his cheekbones beginning to burn ever so slightly. He sighed, hanging his head, as he stepped out of the sunlight, and into the humid building.

A woman in a correctional officer uniform stepped up and began to uncuff the new additions. Her face was hardened, her black hair was pulled back, and she held a neutral expression in her eyes, determined and all business. Her badge shown in the dim lighting, as she clasped Ellis' wrists to unlock his cuffs. He looked up at her, trying to smile a bit, in an attempt to make a decent first impression. Ellis had always considered himself a likable person, and he normally managed to charm those around him.  With this CO, however, that would not be the case.

"Keep your eyes down, kid, or you're gonna get hurt up in here," she warned, sternly, but not unkindly. It was enough to intimidate Ellis, though.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said quickly, hanging his head.

"It's Hampton," said the officer, sounding almost as if she were taking pity on him, "My name's Officer Hampton."

"Yes, officer," he said, tears beginning to sting in his eyes. He really was terrified. Never in his life did Ellis ever imagine he would end up in a max shack. He was supposed to be the good kid. He was mischievous at times, sure, but never a criminal. Now he would end up bleeding out in a corner somewhere, cold and alone. Three to five years without Keith, Dave, or his mother. He would be surprised if his mother even ever spoke to him again.

"Hey," the officer's voice snapped him from his heartbroken thoughts, and he cautiously looked back up at her.

"It's obvious you're green, so let me give you a little friendly advice," she said, "You clearly got a soft heart, kid, which is sweet, and I don't know what you did to end up in here, but you gotta man up, because you won't last otherwise. I'll do what I can to keep the peace and protect you, it's my job after all, but you gotta knock this pussy-ass shit off."

Ellis sighed. He didn’t know if Officer Hampton's words made him feel better, but the burning in the back of his eyes did lessen. He knew that what she was saying was completely true: he would have to learn how to be strong, or be crushed in his new surroundings. However, he felt a little more hopeful with the promise of protection. Perhaps it was an empty promise. He had heard of corrupt officers in the past But it did help somewhat.

"Thanks, Officer Hampton," he said, weakly.

"Know what? Call me Rochelle," she said, clapping him on the back. She then looked at the clipboard she was carrying, "Prisoner 00984185, known in civilian life as Ellis McKinney. I've got my eye on you kid.  Now, I need you to go to the room to your right and strip. Inspection is next."

He nodded gratefully, as Rochelle moved on to the prisoners behind him, and did as she requested, entering the concrete room to strip before a very irritable team of nurses and officers.

 

* * *

 

"Here you go, cell 56," the officer leading Ellis to his cell drawled. The CO was a nasty looking thing, with slicked back, greasy blond hair, and a clown-like smile.

A loud buzzing sound rang through the cellblock, as the cell door opened. The cramped, concrete cell was to be Ellis' new home for the next handful of years.

"Where's my cellmate?" Ellis asked, looking around, as he stepped in.

The officer chuckled, eyes glinting with a sick humor, "Yard. Most everyone is in the yard right now. They'll be in in fifteen minutes, though. You'd better savor those fifteen minutes, too, 'cause your new roomie is known to be  _real_  friendly."

Ellis cringed. He knew the officer wasn't talking about the kind of friendly guy you take to a Braves game. The officer cackled as the door slid shut and locked behind him, and walked away.

"Aren' you supposed to do something about that kinda guy?" shouted Ellis after the officer. Much to his irritation, he was ignored. The hick flopped down on his bunk, clutching the blankets he had been given. It would be alright. Officer Hampton – Rochelle – would keep a lookout for any inappropriate behavior. He would be fine.

Right?

Ellis got up, and slowly began to pace.

_It's just my luck, I'd be stuck with a total creep in this fuckin' cell. Next thing I know I'll be as violated as a street-corner whore. …Then again, maybe he's just violent and that fuck face officer was just being sadistic. Still, what if he shanks me in my sleep? What if he strangles me? Rochelle can't work twenty-four hours, what if he waits and-_

Suddenly the cellblock filled with the sound of voices; fellow prisoners coming in from the yard and officers shouting. Cell doors opening and closing echoed around him. Ellis held his breath in fearful anticipation.

A tall body filled the small doorway to his cell, and Ellis' eyes widened. Before him stood a rather greasy man, definitely in his forties or fifties. Filthy, stringy orange hair fell down around the man's face, reaching his shoulders, and his dark blue eyes were sunken into what was probably a rather attractive face at one point. He was built with lean muscle, and although Ellis was certainly muscular as well, the older man could definitely take him in a fight.

This was the single most frightening person Ellis had ever met. His knees gave a small tremor.

"What do we have here?" his cellmate growled gleefully, as the door shut behind him, "You're one of those young newbies, aren't you? Saw you lot from the fence."

Ellis swallowed in anticipation. He didn't know what was next. But whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Don't be frightened, new blood. I'm only as dangerous as most of the other monsters in this pit," the man's wide grin said otherwise. Ellis wouldn't have been surprised if this guy fucked kittens for fun. He looked around for Rochelle, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Uh, so yer my cellmate, I guess?" he said, shakily.

"That would be correct," smirked the man, "Name's Whitaker. Tommy Whitaker. People around here like to call me Shark, but don't you pay them any mind. I'm Tommy to you, okay?"

Ellis shivered in disgust, as he let the various reasons for Tommy's prison tag run through his mind, none of them pleasant.

"What about you? Have you got a name?"

"E-Ellis. My name is Ellis," he stammered, attempting to take a step back.

"Well Ellis, I think since we'll be living together for a while, we should perhaps get to know each other a bit better, don't you think?" asked Tommy.

Ellis began to protest, but his cellmate cut in, "Where are you from, kid?" he asked, sitting on the floor. Ellis let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like his "friendly" cellie genuinely only wanted to talk, at least, for the time being.

"Savannah," he replied, "I'm from Savannah."

And so, the game of twenty questions with the creepy man began.


	2. Chapter 2

It was incredibly difficult for Ellis to leave Tommy’s side after that first day. Partially because he didn't exactly know anyone else, and partially because his cellmate tended to keep close tabs on him at all times. 

The large, ginger man hadn't tried anything funny with him as of yet. That much Ellis was grateful for, but Tommy was still possessive, and it creeped him the fuck out. Ellis still wasn't sure exactly what Tommy was in for. He had been informed by Vicky, a sickly looking guy with arms like cannons, whom Tommy tended to hang around and play cards with, that murder had definitely been involved. However, that was only the tip of the iceberg concerning Tommy Whitaker’s story, and Ellis knew it.

He had gotten the layout of the prison’s social community fairly quickly. That was to say, he was told which inmates it was okay to approach and for what reasons, and which inmates never to approach, or, in some cases, even look at. Gangs were common, and Ellis found that, technically, he belonged to one, as Tommy seemed to lead a group of the prisoners. What held them together or what they had in common was anyone’s guess, as far as Ellis was concerned. It just seemed to depend on whether Tommy took to them or not. 

Things were uncomfortable, but Ellis managed to survive with the protection of his new friends, if one could call them that. For a while, at least.

 A week after he had walked through the correctional facility gates, though, Ellis managed to make his first grave mistake.

"Hey, Dash?”  Ellis asked one day, during yard, turning to a man in their group who, it had turned out, was only a couple of years older than Ellis, himself.

His fellow convict looked over to him from the place he was sitting in the grass.

“That guy. I've never seen him hangin’ ‘round anyone. He’s always alone. Who is he?” Ellis nodded over to a lanky man with dark hair, who sat up in the bleachers, staring blankly ahead with rather noticeable, piercing, green-grey eyes. Ellis had noticed him after his second day there, but had never approached him, as he wasn’t one of the people Tommy associated with. The man intrigued Ellis greatly for some odd reason that he couldn't quite figure out. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the only prisoner Ellis saw alone at all times, or his cold, mysterious demeanor. Whatever it was, Ellis definitely wanted to know his story.

“Him? That there is Nick Dillon. He’s a shifty kinda guy, I wouldn’ mess wit’ ‘im if I was you,” replied Dash, laughing at Ellis’ expression.

“What’d he do to get in here?” Ellis asked, boldly. He knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, but his burning curiosity was too much for him to keep quiet.

“Figure you’d ‘ve read ‘bout it in the papers. I know I did when it happened,” said Dash, moving to stand up, “He killed a little girl’s daddy, ‘bout two years ago, now,” Dash scoffed at Ellis’ blank look, “Beat the poor guy to death righ’ in front’a his kid.”

Ellis’ forehead wrinkled, as his expression became one of surprise. His stomach dropped with disappointment for a reason he had no idea of. He found Dash’s story incredibly hard to believe for some reason, despite the fact that anyone with sight could see that the man Ellis was so curious about had the look of a killer.

"You don’t need to worry about him, though, El,” came a slimy voice Ellis knew all too well to be Tommy’s. His cellmate came up behind him, and placed a hand roughly on Ellis’ shoulder, “If he ever gives you any trouble, you’re protected, I promise.” 

Tommy’s hand slowly moved forward, to pull Ellis into an awkward, sweaty back hug. Ellis swallowed thickly, not liking where things was going. He didn't know if Tommy was exactly the “drop the soap” type of guy, but he’d certainly been getting more touchy over the past couple of days. Expressing his discomfort was not something Ellis was about to do, though, in fear for his own safety. 

“Who better t’ handle a killer than another killer,” joked Vicky, standing beside Dash.

“That bitch had it coming,” replied Tommy, good-naturedly, pulling Ellis closer. 

Ellis’ eyes were still on Nick, though, as he chewed at his bottom lip in frustration, wishing that he had the guts to break out of Tommy’s grasp. And then, suddenly, Nick's eyes were on Ellis, as well.

Ellis’ expression must have been incredibly offensive to him, because not five seconds after meeting Ellis’ gaze, Nick was climbing down from the bleachers, and storming towards the group, glints of anger in his green-grey eyes.

“ _Hey, Shark!”_ his accent was definitely not southern. Loud, and not as deep as Ellis had imagined it would be, he instantly found comfort in Nick Dillon’s voice, despite the antagonizing tone.

“Nicholas! To what do we owe the pleasure?” Tommy chuckled, not letting go of Ellis, but, instead, leaning against him, lazily.

“Let the kid go, Shark.  _Now_.”

Ellis blinked in shock. He had come storming across the yard, not to yell at him for staring, but to  _save_ him? Ellis wasn’t entirely sure he needed saving, but if Nick thought he did, it was probably a sign to be wary of his cellmate’s intentions.

“Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas,” tutted Tommy, “I don’t believe you’ve met my new cellmate. This is Ellis McKinney. He’s new to our little family, as you may have guessed.”

Nick groaned, “Of course he’d be your cellmate.” He took a step closer, threateningly, “Whitaker, I swear to God, if you do to him what you did to those other two kids-”

Tommy covered Ellis’ ears with both of his hands. This was more for show, as Ellis could still make out everything being said.

"Ssshhhh, we don’t want to fill poor El’s head with false propaganda about his dearest friend, now would we, Nicholas?”

At this, Nick took a swing at Tommy, which is when all Hell began to break loose.

It wasn’t hard for Tommy to dodge Nick’s punch, as he’d placed it carefully, possibly as to not hit Ellis. Then, Dash and Vicky were on him, like attack dogs on cue, shoving Nick to the ground and kicking the absolute shit out of him. Tommy held Ellis back, as he attempted to rush forward to help Nick.

"It’s okay, El. I know you care about my feelings, but Vick and Dash got this,” Tommy purred into Ellis’ hair.

Ellis choked out in horror, as Nick’s lip split open and began to bleed, the rest of his face soon to follow.

Suddenly, shots rang out, and a siren sounded.

“Shit!”  Tommy hissed, throwing himself to the ground, hands behind his head. Ellis mimicked his movements, as guards rushed in to break up the fight as quickly as possible. They then began pulling Nick inside in order to take him into the infirmary. Nick’s eyes met Ellis’ in an apologetic gaze, before he disappeared inside.

Ellis swore to himself that he’d correct his staring problem as quickly as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the day had Ellis terrified of just about everything. The reality was that an inmate who didn't even know him had put himself at risk to get Ellis away from Tommy Whitaker. That meant that Tommy was certainly far more dangerous than Ellis had originally imagined, which did not bode well, considering their rooming arraignment. Tommy had become even more overbearing than usual in the hours that came after Nick’s beating, never hovering more than a couple of inches from Ellis at all times. Ellis, of course, said nothing. He intended to survive the next three to five years of his life, even if it meant having a shadow during that time. He wasn't prepared for what happened that evening, though.

Shortly before lights out, Ellis had been brushing his teeth, desperately trying to get the taste of the slop the correctional facility called stew from his mouth. Tommy watched him from the top bunk, with calculating eyes, as Ellis spat into the sink and then made his way to his bunk. He sat down in silence, hoping that his cellmate was tired enough to go to sleep.

“Hey El,” came the Tommy's voice from above. Ellis internally groaned at his next words; “Do you like me?”

Ellis nervously sucked in a breath as his own distress swiftly punched him in the gut. How the hell was he supposed to answer a question like that?

“You do, don’t you?” Tommy asked, teasingly, as he slithered from his bunk and moved to sit beside Ellis. Ellis couldn’t help but shiver in disgust, as Tommy put his arm around Ellis’ shoulders.

“I mean, we’ve gotten so  _very_  close in only a handful of days. We care about one another, yeah? I protect you. Like how Vicky and Dash protected me, today,” Tommy reached over, and ran his sweaty fingers through Ellis’ hair. He felt as if he were going to be sick. 

“You know we’re family, now, right? You and me? We’ve gotta stick together.” 

Then, he leaned in, pressing his lips to Ellis’ exposed collarbone. Ellis let out a yelp of surprise, and flinched away in horror.

Tommy’s eyes flashed with irritation, before softening again, as he moved back in, “You want this, Ellis. You  _need_  it. We’re simply bonding, like any loving family should.”

“I’m pretty sure this ain't how families bond,” said Ellis, quickly, attempting to get up. But Tommy had grabbed him first, clenching his wrist tightly. Ellis gritted his teeth in pain.

“This is how  _our_  family bonds, Ellis. I rescued you from this place and the monsters inside,” Tommy said softly, dangerously, “Show me the gratitude I deserve.”

Ellis began to shake. He didn't want to panic. Nick wouldn't panic. He found his mind flitting to the stoic prisoner who had attempted to punch Tommy in the yard, earlier. The odds were against him from the start, and yet he’d put himself at risk. Nick didn't seem to be afraid of anything. Ellis wanted to be that brave.

“You wouldn’ rape a beloved family member, would yeh?” asked Ellis, attempting to reason with his, now, very worked up cellmate. He could clearly see what was going on in Tommy’s sweatpants, and he wanted nothing to do with it. 

“Oh, Ellis,” Tommy purred, pulling the younger man close, so that they sat nose to nose, “That hurts. There's nothing more despised, even within these walls, than rape. I’d never do anything without your consent. But I have that. You  _want_  this. I  _know_  you do.”

Suddenly, a loud clang came from outside the cell door, “Hey, you two, lights out!” Ellis had never been so relieved to see an officer of the law before in his entire 23 years of life. He was even happier to see whom this specific officer happened to be.

“Rochelle!” he cried out. He would have hugged her if there weren’t a barred door separating them.

“Good evening, Officer Hampton,” greeted Tommy, shooting her a wild grin, moving a couple inches from Ellis.

“Oh, fuck, kid! They put you in here with Shark?” gasped Rochelle, an incredibly sour look etched onto her face.

“Don’t sound so horrified, officer. I take  _good_  care of Ellis. Don’t I?” Tommy looked down at his cellmate, eyes burning into him with lust.

“I heard your boys got in a fight today. I guess  _this_  explains it,” Rochelle growled.

“Ah, yes. Nicholas. He was being a tad  _meddlesome_ ,” chuckled Tommy, “I’m sure he’ll be much better behaved now.”

 _"Goddammit!_ ” hissed Rochelle, angrily. Her eyes then began to flit back and forth from Tommy to Ellis, and then down to Tommy’s problem area. A look of realization overtook her features, and she stepped back.

“OPEN ON 56!” she shouted, and there was a loud buzzing, as the door to their cell slid open.

“McKinney! Your ass is going to solitary!” She reached past Tommy, much to the older inmate’s protest, and grabbed Ellis roughly, dragging him out of the cell.

“CLOSE ON 56!” she shouted, and the door was buzzed shut and locked. 

Ellis could hear his heart pounding in his ears, “Wha-What did I do?”

“You’re suspect in a case of assault. You’ll be meeting with the warden in his office tomorrow morning,” she said, pulling him along. Vicky and Dash definitely weren't in solitary, and they’d been the ones who  _had_  attacked Nick. And why wasn't Tommy coming too, if it was such a big deal?

Rochelle pulled him out of the general population, and onto an elevator. She loosened her grip once the doors had closed in front of them, and they moved up two floors.

“Sorry about that, kid,” she said, softly, much to Ellis’ relief, “It was the best way to get you out of there before anything transpired. Are you hurt?”

Ellis began to feel even more nervous.

_I swear to God, if you do to him what you did to those other two kids…_

Nick’s words rang through his head, as he put the pieces together. He had obviously not been Tommy’s first failed attempt at “inducting” a new member of his family.

 “I’m fine, thanks t’ you,” Ellis said, gratefully, “So I’m really going to solitary, then?”

“Only for the night,” said Rochelle, as they stepped off of the elevator and into a long hallway full of cells thick with steel doors, “We’ll talk to the warden about arrangin’ you in a different cell tomorrow.” She unlocked one of the doors and ushered him in. 

“Try and get some sleep,” she said, before locking him in.

Ellis sighed with relief, as he looked around the small, dimly lit, concrete room. He flopped himself down on the hard mattress that sat in the corner, grateful to be alone for the very first time in days.

He hoped his new cellmate would be less frightening than Tommy had been. A bank robber or drug dealer, perhaps. No more murderers. Unless they were kind murderers, like Nick. 

Ellis let his mind wander back to the inmate who had tried to save him. Nick had obviously known about Tommy’s plans to violate him. Honestly, Ellis had seen it coming, but had chosen to optimistically ignore the signs. He would have been stuck going through it whether he wanted to or not, had Rochelle not arrived when she did. He felt almost as if he had two guardian angels on his side.

Nick had gotten put in the infirmary because of him, though. That, Ellis wasn't so happy about. 

Ellis remembered the look on Rochelle’s face when Tommy had mentioned Nick’s name. She seemed both worried and angry, uncharacteristically like an older sister would have been. Ellis wondered how often Nicholas Dillon tended to get into fights in the correctional facility. It didn't seem like the first time, if Rochelle’s reaction was any indicator.

Dash had said that Nick had beaten a man to death: a father. Was that really true? And if it was, was there a reason for it? Nick had gotten himself messed up so that Ellis wouldn't get hurt. That wasn't the kind of guy that killed to kill, Ellis reckoned. 

He fell asleep with the image of Nick’s face in his mind, eyes full of apologies for what he knew Ellis would go through without anyone there to help him.

 

The next morning, Ellis sat patiently in his solitary cell, waiting for Rochelle to come and get him. 

In the midst of washing his face, the hick began to hear tapping coming from right outside of his door. Curiously, he made his way over to the slot in the steel, pulling it part way open to look.  He moved his head to see a thin hand sticking out of the slot in the door beside his, tapping above the flap.

“Hey!” a voice whispered, and Ellis jumped a bit, startled, “You’re the one Hampton took in last night, right? Tommy Whitaker’s cellmate?”

“Uh, yeah,” replied Ellis, “Who’re you?”

“Carson Hunter,” the voice responded, softly, “I’m the cellmate Whitaker had before you.”

Ellis gasped. So he wasn't the first.

“Then you know-”

“Yeah, I know,” Hunter responded, voice cracking a bit. He sounded young. Younger than Ellis, even. 

“What are you doin’ in here, man?” Ellis asked, “Weren’ you reassigned?”

“And go back to gen pop? Are you insane?”

“But, I mean, he wouldn’ be yer cellmate anymore,” said Ellis, questioningly, “You’d be safe.”

“You think just because you won’t share a cell that he won’t come after you?” Hunter laughed bitterly, “The guy before me got reassigned, too. And guess fucking what? He’s no longer breathing.”

Ellis could feel the color drain from his face, “What d’ya mean, no longer breathin’?”

“Hung himself,” sighed Hunter, as his hand receded from his slot.

Ellis began to tremble. Would Tommy attempt to get revenge for leaving him? Hunter said the guy had killed himself, not that Tommy had murdered him.

“I can’t stay here. It jus’ wouldn’ be good for my sanity, I reckon,” Ellis replied, quietly. He didn’t want this new information to scare him. He wanted to be brave, like Nick. He felt a bit better, just thinking of him. Actually,  _maybe_  if it were possible…

“Ellis McKinney!” Ellis heard a voice he knew to be Rochelle’s calling his name. He stepped back as she unlocked the door. 

“I need you to put these on,” she said, handing him a pair of cuffs. He obliged without a word.

“Hey, Rochelle,” Ellis said, deep in thought, as she led him to the top floor, “About findin’ me a new cellmate, does Nick have one?”

Rochelle laughed, as if she’d heard something absurd, “No, actually. But I don’t think it’d be a good idea to request him.”

“Why not?” asked Ellis. He  _really_  wanted to be in the same cell as Nick now. He knew it. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the con’s behavior. He needed to know more about him.  

“He bribes the Captain to leave the spot empty,” said Rochelle. Ellis was taken aback at how she didn’t seem to care at all. Were things like bribes really that common?

“Well I’d really like him to reconsider,” Ellis replied, bluntly.

Rochelle burst out into more guffaws of laughter, “Oh, no, sweetie. He’s not gonna give up that one-man cell easily.”

“Maybe for me he would,” argued Ellis, “He tried to save me.”

“Oh, honey, he’s got his own reasons for that. Gettin’ in a fight for you does  _not_  mean he likes you.”

Ellis crinkled his nose in annoyance. “I think I’ll still bring it up,” he said, as they reached the warden’s office.

“’S your funeral, McKinney,” she said, as they entered the waiting room.

Sitting at the secretary’s desk, sat just about the most beautiful woman Ellis had ever seen. She had on a light pink blazer, and clipped her long, dark hair up, and out of her eyes.

"Rochelle,” the secretary smiled radiantly, as she tapped away at her computer, “Bill’s been waiting. Coach is inside as well.”

"Thanks, Zoey,” Rochelle replied, pulling Ellis into the main office.

“Rochelle, Mr. McKinney.”

Ellis looked ahead to see Warden Overbeck, seated at his desk. He looked to be in his 60s or 70s, and had a large, fluffy, grey beard, which reminded Ellis of Santa Clause. Beside him sat Officer Coleman, who was the top ranking correctional officer and Captain of the guard. The Captain was a tall, dark, robust man with no hair and a calm look on his face.

“Another one of Whitaker’s cellmates,” sighed the warden, unhappily, “We’d get rid of him if we could, but no other facility wants him, unfortunately.”

"We already know your situation, and we’d like to offer you a new cell,” said Officer Coleman, curtly, “It’s really all we can do for now.”

“Um, I wanted to ask,” Ellis started hesitantly, “Is Nick Dillon okay? Yeh see, he got pretty badly hurt on my behalf, an-”

“He’s doing just fine, kid,” Coleman said, smiling, attempting to sooth Ellis’ worries, "He'll probably be out of the infirmary by tomorrow afternoon."

“Well then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to him about sharing a cell with me.”

“I don’t know why you would need to talk to him for that to be arranged,” the warden said, frowning wearily.

Rochelle and Officer Coleman exchanged looks. Looks, which the warden seemed to catch.

“Don’t you think you’d rather not move from one murderer cellmate to another?” Coleman asked, gently, eyes pleading.

“No,” said Ellis, bluntly, “I think he’d be good.”

“Captain, does Dillon have an opening in his cell?”  The warden asked.

“Yeah, but-”

“Then consider yourself cellmates,” the warden nodded to Ellis, “I’ll sign the paperwork. Rochelle, could you kindly escort Mr. McKinney to his cell? I’d like to have a word with Officer Coleman.”

Rochelle nodded, taking Ellis out of the office, as Coleman looked down at his feet.

“That was too easy,” Ellis mumbled to himself, as Rochelle led him back to the elevator to return to gen pop.

“Yeah, well, I think Overbeck’s been tryin’ to catch Coach in his small bribes for a while,” replied Rochelle.

“Is he gonna fire him?” asked Ellis, worried. He didn't want to be the cause of someone’s unemployment.

“I doubt it. I think he’s just been having financial issues that Overbeck wants him to own up to,” chuckled Rochelle, “The bribes’ll stop of course, but not until Coach gets a raise.”

Ellis shook his head in disbelief, “He must be a pushover if he’d give a raise to a corrupt guard.”

“Oh, he’s not. He can be an absolute tyrant when he wants to be,” said Rochelle, with warning, as they were buzzed into gen pop, “He’s a good man, though. OPEN ON 127!”

She left him in his new cell, smiling comfortingly, as the door locked, “I'll be getting your things from the old cell. The last thing we need is Whitaker coming after you again," she said. "Well, kiddo, you got what you wanted. Hopefully you don’t regret it.”

He knew he wouldn't, as he sat down on the bunk. He was about to find out everything he wanted to know since first laying eyes on Nick Dillon. He would make sure of it. 

Ellis wasn't scared anymore. He was brimming with excitement.


	4. Chapter 4

The courtroom was unbearably hot, as the jury filed back into their seats from the jury room. It had taken all but fifteen minutes for the twelve of them to make their decision. 

Nick felt incredibly uneasy. He didn’t know what he was even doing there. He turned to his wife, Shayna, who was trembling. It almost looked as if she were about to throw up. What was  _she_ doing there? 

Nick’s head was reeling with questions about his situation. He wanted to stand up and loudly ask the people around him what was going on, but he found himself melded to his seat, heaviness overwhelming his limbs. So much so, that he was unable to move.

Just then, the bailiff appeared, dragging the trial’s defendant along with him. She was merely a child, pale blond hair hung in her face, and her features clearly bore her exhaustion and torment. Nick’s insides turned to ice. He tried to scream, but found his jaw locked into place.

_This can’t be happening. This CANNOT be happening!_

The young girl was placed on the stand, as the judge read out the ruling:

“Miss Gretchen Charger; charged with the murder of your father, Horace Charger, it is my absolute pleasure to announce that this court has found you guilty of homicide in the first degree.”

That didn't even make sense. There was no evidence showing that Horace’s death had been planned out whatsoever. Nick tried to jerk out of his seat, again to no avail.

“This loathsome crime can only have one fitting end for you, Miss Charger: Capital punishment.”

_No! Fuck! This isn't what was supposed to happen! She’s a kid!_

A horrible wail cut through the room, like a blade, and Nick turned to see his wife, standing and screaming. Her brother, Larry, held her back.

“MY BABY!  DON’T YOU TAKE MY BABY! MONSTERS! LIARS!”

Nick wanted to join her screaming, but his body was just too heavy. He was panicking. There was no way that this could be happening, not to her. Not to them.

Finally, after trying time and time again to break free of his invisible bondage, Nick shot up, and shouted a single word:

“GRET!”

The young girl turned to him, eyes blank and broken, as a single tear made its way down her pale face, “You said you’d protect me, Nick. You promised.”

Her words shot straight through his gut, tearing his insides from him. Angry tears began to well up in his eyes. Suddenly, her face changed. 

It had contorted to the face of a nineteen-year-old boy, with hateful brown eyes and a tangled mess of black hair on his head: Travis Smoker. A noose hung loosely from his neck. 

“You didn't mean it, though, did you, Nick?”

The face changed again, this time to a young man with a chocolate-colored mowhawk, and timid, grey eyes; Carson Hunter. 

“You didn't stop him, and now my life is over.”

The face contorted one last time, to reveal a tanned man with a scar on the bridge of his nose. Sandy curls fell over the top of his head, and his clear, blue eyes demanded answers. 

“Why couldn’ you do this one thing, Nick? Is it really that hard? I needed you.”

Nick’s legs gave out, and he crumbled to the floor, as the people he had failed to rescue shouted his name, over and over again. 

“Nick! Nick? Nick!”

“Nick, honey, wake up! You’re just dreamin’ again.”

Nick shot upright, staring into a concerned pair of deep brown eyes, only a few inches from his face. He was in the prison infirmary, right where he was supposed to be. And Gret was at home, with her mother, exactly where she was supposed to be. Things were okay. Sort of.

“What’s going on in here?” Nick looked over to see a tall woman with pigtails and a lab coat walk in, huffily.

“Everything’s fine, Nurse Spitter. Just a nightmare,” Rochelle soothed, taking a seat beside Nick’s bed. The nurse nodded, curtly, before going back to her duties.

“Ro, what are you doing here?” asked Nick, turning to the correctional officer.

“I’m not on duty yet, for a few more minutes. I came to see how you were doing,” she said, gently.

“Just peachy,” Nick scoffed waving his hand at her, dismissively. Rochelle swatted at it, unamused.

“Still havin’ those nightmares, huh? The meds Doc Boomer gave you aren’t working, are they?” Rochelle asked.

“Do they ever?” grunted Nick. He was grateful for the company, but he could become quite irritated with Rochelle’s mommy act now and then. She didn't need to worry about him so much. She was a CO. Wasn't she supposed to be inflicting as much hardship on him as possible, or something?

Rochelle sighed, sadly. Besides Gret, she was the only one who knew about the real reason he was locked up in the correctional facility. She would have liked to say something to someone, Warden Overbeck, perhaps, but she knew Nick’s reasons for keeping the truth about the situation quiet were good ones. Maybe she shouldn't have trusted his judgment, but she did, and that was the end of things.

“You’re looking much better,” she commented, quietly.

“Yeah, well we've got a good doctor here, luckily. Did you see what those assholes did to my face? It's like defacing a glorious marble statue, what they did.”

“Whatever you say, Nick,” Rochelle said, rolling her eyes.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, before Nick spoke again, “How’s the kid? He okay?” The entire time that Nick had been in the infirmary, it was all he could think about. Had Shark punished him for Nick’s error? Or did he somehow manage to get away, like Hunter had?

“If you mean Ellis, then yeah, he’s fine,” said Rochelle. It sounded like she was leaving something out, though, “That’s how I found out you were laid up in here, actually, checkin’ up on him. I got him out just in time.”

Nick let out a sigh of relief, “But how did you-”

“Please,” Rochelle cut him off, “Why else would  _you_  chance a fight with Whitaker and his boys?”

Nick grumbled a bit, relaxing into his infirmary bed, “So they’ve got him in solitary, right?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Rochelle said, meekly. “Warden Overbeck put him in a new cell, up in gen pop.”

“With who?” Nick asked, worriedly. It could have been anyone, after all, even one of Whitaker’s goons.

“With you.”

Nick jerked his head back a bit, in surprise, “With me? But Coach and I had a deal!”

“Not anymore. Overbeck found out,” Rochelle replied, gently, “I know this is going to be a change for you, but maybe it’s for the best.”

"How the hell is putting the kid in a cell with  _me_  for the best, Ro!?” Nick spat, sitting up in anger.

“You calm down!” Rochelle snapped, “You’re gonna bring attention to yourself again! I warned him not to request you, but he did. That’s the truth of things. You’re stuck with him now, you understand? You have no say in it, so you need to accept it.”

“He  _requested_ me?” Nick groaned, pulling a hand over his face in annoyance.

“Nick,” came Rochelle’s voice, sternly, “He’ll be  _safe_  with you. You care about him, don’t you?”

“No,” growled Nick, “I care what happens to him, maybe, but not  _about_  him.”

Rochelle let out a soft breath, “You’re all he’s got, Nick. Please try and make this work?”

Nick didn't respond, but Rochelle figured that it was better than him arguing with her. She checked her watch.  

“I’m on duty, now,” she said, “And the first thing I need to do is get you out of here. You’re discharged.”

Nick nodded, lazily. Rochelle called Nurse Spitter back in to dislodge Nick’s IVs and hand him over to her.

After Nick had wiggled his way back into his prison uniform, he and Rochelle were headed back to gen pop, so that Nick could settle back into his cell, this time with someone else there, waiting for him.

His new cellmate, Ellis McKinney, was waiting eagerly for him when he returned. He looked like he was about to pounce on him out of sheer excitement, once the cell door had locked behind him.

“What are you doing in my cell?” Nick asked, irritated. He knew the answer, but wanted to be a nuisance to Ellis, anyway. It was only fair, after all.

Ellis’ face dropped immediately, “Well, I mean, they put me in here so…”

Nick rolled his eyes, “Obviously. I mean why the hell did you  _choose_ to be saddled up with me, moron?”

Ellis shrugged, “I figured it was my best bet-”

“Of finding a body guard, yeah?” Nick snapped, “You should have stayed in solitary, kid. You saw what those asswipes are capable of. I’m not going to be able to stop them if they want to gut you.”

Ellis looked taken aback. Good. At least maybe he was starting to get the hint.

“I-I jus’ thought maybe you needed a friend, yeh know? You’re always alone and stuff.”

Nick furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement. Was this kid serious? “I don’t  _need_  friends, Hayseed,” he snapped, “I  _need_  people to stay out of my goddamn business, though.”

“So I won’  _be_  in your business!” It was Ellis’ turn to snap, much to Nick’s surprise, “But I’ve already decided to stick with you. Ain’t nothin’ you can say that’ll change my mind!”

Nick narrowed his eyes at his new cellmate. He really didn’t know what to make of the kid. He seemed like a typical, young, southern doofis at first glance. But he had spirit. That much was apparent to Nick.

“Fine,” Nick caved, rubbing his temples, and flopping down on his bunk, as a headache began to work its way into his skull, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have no idea what you’re getting tangled up in, kid."

“Suits me jus’ fine,” Ellis said sitting himself beside Nick, “You tried to save me from that pervert of a cellmate I had. An’ I reckon’ you did that for a reason. You can’t be all bad.”

“I am  _definitely_  all bad,” Nick retorted, softly.

Ellis shook his head, the clear, blue eyes from Nick’s dream now boring into him, “I don’ believe that for one second. You’re good, Nick. I can tell.”

“And you’re insane,” Nick replied.

“What good redneck boy ain’t?” Ellis giggled, happy sounding, “At least a li’l bit?” he added.

A minute of pure, beautiful silence made its way between the two of them, before Ellis spoke up again: “I’m really glad that you’re okay, Nick. I was really worried ‘bout you, you know.”

 _I was really worried about you too, kid._   He didn't have the guts to say it.

Another minute of silence.

“I’m Ellis, by the way. Some people call me El, but I really prefer Ellis 'cause El kinda sounds like a girl's name. But if you prefer to call me El, I guess you can.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“I’m jus’ tryin’ to make conversation,” Ellis said, defensively, “I mean, you’re gonna be stuck with me for the next three years, ‘less you got less time in here than me.”

“Kid, I killed a guy. I’m stuck in here for life,” Nick spat. He hadn’t intended to say the words with nearly as much venom as he had. However, his retort seemed to shut-up Ellis, at least for the moment, as the younger man looked down at his feet, cheeks and ears turning pink.

“So it’s true, then? You really…you really killed that girls daddy?” The words were soft, echoing in disappointment.

“I don’t know what you expected, kid. This is prison,” Nick replied, anger being replaced with a quiet bitterness.

“I know that! I’m not stupid!” Ellis retorted, “But…” his voice became gentle again, “I guess I was jus’ hopin’ that you were different. You seem different. To me, anyway.”

“A con is a con,” Nick said, bluntly, “I’m not some gallant hero, here to save you from Shark’s jaws. I can’t stand rapists, that’s all. I’m not the only one in that department, either. Most people do.”

Nick swallowed, thickly. He wasn’t lying, and yet he was. There was more to the story, and Ellis’ eyes shown in a way that proved to Nick that he knew it.

“That’s not all Tommy Whitaker is, though,” Ellis said, “Right?”

“You’re right,” Nick admitted, glad the subject was off of him, at least. “I’ll bet he never told you his story, did he, Ellis?”

Ellis shook his head in response.

“He’s never even been convicted for any kind of sexual misconduct,” Nick continued, “He killed his wife, that’s why he’s in here. Supposedly because she refused to go out and buy him some cola. At least that's what everyone says. It’s not really that simple, though.” 

Ellis looked up at him, with curiosity, so he continued, “Shark, his prison tag? It’s not just some dumb, cool nickname he came up with one day. He earned it. He's known to be a major gun enthusiast, but he didn't kill his wife by shooting her or some shit. He drowned her in the pool.” 

“So that’s how he got his name?” asked Ellis, eyes wide.

“Not exactly,” replied Nick, “Word is that she was covered in bite marks, bleeding from every inch of her body.”

Ellis gasped, “That true?”

 Nick shrugged, “That’s how the story goes.”

Ellis shivered, and scooted a bit closer to Nick, who couldn't help but smirk. The kid was cute. Naive, maybe, but cute. 

"I’m glad I got away from him. I know there’re others who weren’ so lucky,” Ellis said. 

Nick froze up. He knew.

“Yeah,” was all Nick could manage to say, shoulders slumping. 

Ellis didn't say anything else, probably figuring that he had struck a nerve of some sort. 

Quietly, Ellis got up, and moved to climb the bunked-bed, to his own spot at the top. They didn't talk anymore that day. But Nick knew that it would be the first of many touchy conversations he’d have with his new, upbeat cellmate. Ellis was too troublesome and nosy to keep silent for long. 

He wondered just how long it would take for Ellis to drag the truth about everything out of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next weeks, Ellis didn't do much. He stayed beside Nick at all times, though the two barely talked, as Nick was sullen and moody most of the time. Still, a bond seemed to silently strengthen between the two inmates, and Ellis cared a lot about the older man, doing whatever he could to get his attention or make him smile. A couple of times, during meals, Ellis would attempt to cheer Nick up with a story about his friend Keith, whom he had grown up with. Keith was a wild guy, and would pull some of the most ridiculous stunts Ellis had ever seen. It was Keith's lifetime goal to start a show similar to Jackass and the like. However, nothing seemed to pull Nick out of his bitter mood; not even when Ellis told him about the time he and Keith had attempted to go " 'Gator huntin' with one of them blow dart guns that Keith had won in a raffle at the county fair."

Tommy had made no moves to attempt to get back at Ellis for leaving him. This calmed Ellis, but did the opposite for Nick. "He's planning something," was all the con was willing to share on the subject, though. Ellis felt, however, that as long as he had Nick and Rochelle at his side, that things would work out for the best.

The only time Nick was really talkative, was whenever Rochelle stopped by to check up on the two of them. She had taken to calling the two of them "her boys", which suited Ellis just fine. Nick and Rochelle were very much like caring, yet constantly bickering, siblings, with a knack for trying to one-up one another in wits (with Rochelle typically coming out on top). It was strange, really; considering a C.O. his friend. He did, though, and Ellis was incredibly grateful for her kindness to the both of them.

It had turned out that Ellis and Nick weren't the only ones who took to Rochelle Hampton. Not long after Ellis had moved into Nick's cell, Nick had requested that Ellis and he make a trip to the kitchen during breakfast one day.

"Sneaking" past the guard, whom Ellis was fairly sure was being bribed by either Nick or the convicted kitchen staff, Nick introduced Ellis to a heavily built, tattooed man by the name of Francis Knox. The two seemed incredibly familiar, and Nick bought a couple of hand-made shanks off of him, much to Ellis' horror. Before the two of them could exit with their new weapons, though, Francis slapped Ellis on the shoulder, good-naturedly.

"So, you're Rochelle's new kid, huh? You look about as baby-faced as I expected."

"I ain't baby-faced," retorted Ellis, rubbing at his stubble to attempt to prove his point.

"Sure you ain't," laughed Francis, before turning to Nick, with a far more serious look on his face.

"Ro told me. About Whitaker," he said, rubbing a hand over his shaved head.

Nick groaned, "Damn her!"

Francis shot Nick a dirty look, "Don't-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't insult your precious angel, got it."

Rochelle, as this greasy convict's "angel"? That sounded oddly suspicious.

Nick continued, "Look, whatever you have in mind, I don't wanna hear it. These are just insurance, nothing more."

"Right," scoffed Francis, "We were both here when Smoker…well."

Nick kicked at the ground, irritated.

"Either way, it's obvious that you're not leaving any option unlooked at. You're fucking crazy if you're thinking about going after him, though."

"I told you, it's  _insurance_. Just in case. I didn't think you'd be so touchy about it. You have your money, so stay out of our business," Nick said, eyebrows knitting together in anger.

Ellis was just as worried as Francis was, if not more so. But Nick had called it  _their_  business. He was acknowledging Ellis and he as a team, and that made Ellis glow with pride to a certain degree.

"Rochelle cares," Francis replied, "She trusts you, do you really want to let her down?"

"She trusts  _you_!" Nick snapped back, "How do you think she'd feel if she had to throw you into solitary for selling weapons to other convicts, huh?" he smiled smugly, knowing he had the upper hand.

Francis merely shrugged, though, "We've both gotta do what we gotta do. But I'm just sayin'. I know that this is personal, brother. I just think you need a better strategy. So that you don't go gettin' yourself killed."

"Whatever," Nick hissed, tucking the blades under his shirt, "Ellis, let's go."

The conversation between Nick and Francis would not leave Ellis. It was all he could think about, as he and Nick lazed about in their cell. How were Ellis' issues with Tommy personal for Nick? And who was Smoker? And why would Rochelle feel inclined to tell another inmate about the debacle?

"Nick?" came Ellis' voice, shakily. He was scared. Whatever had happened between Nick and Tommy had obviously hurt and frightened Nick enough for him to want to kill Tommy. And Ellis had been dragged right in the middle of it, knowing very little. He was worried for Nick. What if Francis was right and he just ended up recklessly getting himself killed? Ellis hadn't known Nick for long, but living life now, without him, sounded miserable.

"Hm?" Nick poked his head out from his bunk, to look up at Ellis.

Ellis took a deep breath, "I dunno exactly how you're feelin' about all this, but, to me, I think that you-"

There was a clanging on their cell door. Both Ellis and Nick looked to see Officer Coleman.

"Dillon, McKinney, you both have visitors."

"Both of us?" asked Nick, sounding confused.

"Did I stutter, son?" Coleman asked, requesting that their door be opened.

Nick and Ellis were both led down to the first floor, where a thin man in a suit and tie sat beside a young girl about fourteen years of age, waiting for Nick. And, much to Ellis' excitement and surprise, his friends Keith and Dave sat waiting for him at a different table, across the room.

"Hey! There's our boy!" greeted Dave, enthusiastically, as Ellis sat down across from his friends.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see yer faces again!" beamed Ellis.

"How the hell are yeh?" asked Keith, hopping up and down a bit in his seat.

"'Bout as good as can be expected," said Ellis, truthfully.

"Made 'ny escape plans yet?" asked Keith, as Dave giggled and slapped a hand over his face.

"Man, I'm only in here for three years. What would I need to escape for?" Ellis said in a joking tone. However, his mind flitted to Tommy for a second, and his pulse picked up nervously. He had no intention of telling Keith or Dave about his near-mishap with his ex-cellmate. Speaking of which….

"So, didja get a creeper for a cellmate?" Keith asked, "Gotta be careful, dad says there's all sorts of homos in prison."

"Nah, man," Ellis lied, "My cellmate is pretty cool, actually. He's that guy, over there," he pointed Nick out to his friends. Nick was muttering something quietly to the man who had come to see him, fear and frustration clearly showing on his face.

"Looks like one'ah those mafia guys," said Dave, slight concern on his face. Ellis crinkled his nose. He preferred the term "roguishly handsome" when describing Nick.

"He mus' be wicked scary!" commented Keith, "And you get along wit' this guy?"

"Sure do," said Ellis, feeling a surge of endearment. It was true; Nick was rather closed off and untouchable, but, for the most part, the two got along. They'd been through enough in their short time knowing one another that Ellis figured that he might even be able to call them friends.

"Lucky! Bet no one messes wit' you, Ellis!" laughed Keith

"Hey! I can take care of myself!" Ellis retorted, laughing a little.

The three grinned at one another in amusement. The joy didn't last however, and tension slowly began to creep its way into the space, as Dave finally asked the question Ellis had known was coming, but dreaded:

"So, has your ma come to see you, or…?"

"No," Ellis sighed, miserably, "I don' think she's really forgiven me, you know?"

Ellis looked away from his friends, not knowing what else to say. His mother had told him the day that he had gotten arrested that she wasn't only disappointed in him, but that she wasn't sure that she could even ever look at him again. It was incredibly painful for Ellis, who had grown up as an only child to a single mother. As far as family went, she was pretty much all he had. He let his eyes wander back to Nick, trying to wring the sour feeling from the pit of his stomach. Much to Ellis's shock, Nick was crying. Soft tears streaked his cellmate's face, as he leaned across the table, speaking sternly to the young girl who had come to see him. She made an upset face, and argued with him. 

Not long after that, visitation was over with, and Nick and Ellis were forced to say goodbye to those who had come to see them.

Throughout dinner that evening, Ellis was absolutely burning with questions for Nick. Ellis knew better than to push his luck when they were in a space where others might overhear, however. He didn't really get the chance, anyway, because as soon as he had finally opened his mouth to attempt some sort of conversation, a body forcefully plopped itself beside him.

It was Vicky. Nick growled, beginning to get to his feet.

Vicky held up a hand, "Peace. I'm just here to say my part, and then I'll be outta your hair."

Nick clenched the plastic fork in his hand.

"I'm here t'…relay a message," said Vicky, "Tommy…he likes to warn people before he destroys them. 'S more polite, you see."

"Yeah, well you tell him I'm ready," spat Nick, livid.

"This ain't about you, Nicholas," Vicky smirked, "This is about baby Ellis, here. He betrayed the family. Now he's gotta pay his dues."

Ellis shuttered, as Vicky stood up, "You won't know what hit you, El. We're coming for you, kiddo."

Neither Ellis nor Nick slept well that night. Ellis' thoughts were all on Nick, and what could happen when the time came to use their "insurance" came.

Nick had given Ellis one of the shanks he had bought off of Francis, forcing him to promise to keep it on him at all times, "In case I'm not there to cover you," he had said. Ellis didn't quite understand how Nick could go from insisting that they weren't friends to being ferociously protective of him in such small spans of time. As for Ellis, he was more fearful of what trouble Nick might get himself into. He was angry and scared, and it showed at all times. Ellis couldn't help but think back to visitation, and the girl and the man who had come to see Nick.

"I know you probably don' wanna say nothin'," Ellis said, softly, as they retired to their bunks for the night, "But I need t' ask; what happened during visitation? Who were those people? They upset you a lot, didn' they?"

Ellis expected Nick to snap, but instead, the con just sighed, exhaustively.

"Please," whispered Ellis, looking down at Nick from his bunk, "I wouldn' ask if I didn' think it was important."

"I figured that I'd eventually have to tell you," Nick said, unhappily, "But you'll hate me after I do. You should hate me already, but you're too stupid to know better."

Ellis paid the insult no mind, climbing down from his bunk and onto the end of Nick's, curling up at his feet and waiting patiently.

Nick groaned after a couple seconds of silence, rubbing his face before beginning to speak; "That girl you saw? She's – or rather, she  _was -_ my stepdaughter. Her name is Gretchen Charger, and I killed her father."


	6. Chapter 6

Ellis felt his heart leap into his throat. He had known that Nick had killed a man, a father. Both Dash and Nick, himself had said so. But that didn’t stop the direct revelation from unhinging Ellis just a bit. To Ellis, Nick was incredible, and knowing that he had murdered an innocent father made Ellis sick to his stomach.

“I beat him to death with my own bare hands,” Nick continued, voice empty and emotionless, as he stared down at his lap, “My ex-wife, Shayna, she said she saw it coming; that I was jealous of him because they had been married first, but that’s all bullshit. I never had a problem with him, until I walked in on…”

Nick’s voice cracked, much to Ellis’ surprise, and the tears that had sprung up during visitation now welled at the corners of the con’s green-grey eyes once again. Ellis scooted closer, until he was practically in Nick’s lap, bringing a hand up to Nick’s jaw, stroking it lightly with his thumb, in a gesture of comfort.

Nick gasped a little, not expecting the contact, but waited a few moments before gathering himself and shaking Ellis off of him.

“I went to pick Gret up after a weekend at her dad’s, and I found them on the couch. A nine year old girl, and he…”

“He was molesting her,” Ellis finished the sentence he knew that Nick could not bring himself to.

“He was _raping_ her,” Nick hissed, letting his tears drip loose onto the scratchy bed sheets, “He was tearing her apart, and I was _there_. I pulled him off of her and murdered him, right in his own living room.” 

Ellis felt absolutely horrified. Not by what Nick had done, he had already witnessed what Nick was willing to do to protect people, but he was absolutely disgusted with what Nick’s step-daughter’s father had done. He had deserved to die, as far as Ellis was concerned. But if Nick was just protecting a child, then why was he in prison?  And for life nonetheless. Something seemed very off about this picture.

“How in the world did they saddle you with life?” whispered Ellis. 

Nick looked up at him, tears lessening, but not fading away completely, “The state of Georgia is fucked up, kid. All Shayna had to do is say that she didn’t believe her daughter, and that was that. She’d been looking for a reason to divorce me for a while, anyway. And she got it.” 

Ellis was puzzled; so many things didn’t make sense.  Surely, the authorities would have taken semen samples or something if a child rape had been claimed. Although it explained why Gret had come to visit Nick; he had saved her life. But why had they argued so much? He didn’t want to accuse Nick of lying, now that he was finally opening up, though, so he held his tongue. A few moments of silence passed, before Nick reached over, touching Ellis’ hand delicately.

“You know, you never told me about yourself. What’s your story?”

“Oh,” said Ellis, becoming a bit flustered as the topic went from something so intense to something which was rather silly in comparison, “I, uh, I stole a stock car, actually.”

Nick didn’t look surprised in the least, and the con actually gave a tiny smile at the revelation, “Whose car?”

“Jimmy Gibbs Jr’s,” replied Ellis, cringing a bit at how his racing hero probably hated his guts.

“I’m pretty sure that Coach has a poster of that guy hanging up in his office,” Nick remarked, in slight wonder, “Francis calls it the Taco Dog poster.  Makes him mad as hell.”

“I don’t doubt it,” replied Ellis, ignoring Nick’s comment about Francis’ stupidity, “He’s the pride of Georgia, y’ know.  If the laws of nature would allow it, I would have born that man’s children,” he sighed miserably.

Nick blinked, and jumped back a bit at Ellis’ last comment.

“What?” asked Ellis, itching to know what was on Nick’s mind.

“You…” and then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head, “Never mind.”

Ellis pouted a bit, as Nick lay back down, turning to face the wall.

“Go to sleep, okay?” Nick said, gently, closing his eyes.

Ellis didn’t argue.  Instead, he ambled back up to his bunk, and left Nick alone for the night, knowing that it was futile to attempt to push anymore out of him. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t think about everything that had been said that night, though.

A few hours later, Ellis awoke to a loud high-pitched buzzer sound, which rang throughout every part of the cellblock.  Their cell door was opening, but there were no correctional officers in sight. The place blew up with shouts of confusion and excitement from prisoners.

Then Ellis realized; every single cell had been opened simultaneously.

“Nick?” called Ellis, rushing down to his cellmate.

“I know, Ellis, I know! I’m not deaf!” hissed Nick, getting up and slipping on his shoes. The two poked their heads out of their cell and peered around. 

The first thing that Ellis noticed was that toilet paper and bed sheets were everywhere. Looking down from the balcony, he could see what looked to be a mosh pit of prisoners on the main floor. The guards were doing their best to keep order, yelling and smashing inmates who got too close with their nightsticks, or hitting them with their tazors. Without real guns, however, they were overtaken quickly, and hauled off to one of the cells. It looked like the makings of a riot, and no one had any idea how or why it had started.

“Nick!”  Ellis called above the noise, “Did you see that! What they did to those officers?” He was suddenly very frightened. All of the officers he had seen were men. However, Rochelle was working that night, and it was only a matter of time before someone got to her. Someone like Tommy; who Ellis had yet to find among the rowdy bunch.

“Sure did Fireball,” said Nick, sounding only slightly worried, “Get back inside; we’re not going to be a part of this.” 

“But, Nick-”

“No, Ellis! Inside! Get your knife just in case someone comes around. I know you want to help, but you’d end up getting hurt.”

“But we need to find Ro!” Ellis exclaimed, “What if she gets hurt?”

As a woman, Rochelle was more likely to be a target to the hoard of male prisoners, even if she was one of the strongest guards in the place. They’d go after her first and more fiercely, Ellis reasoned. She could take on a few prisoners on her own, but no one could take on an entire gang of inmates bent on destruction.

Nick’s eyes suddenly got very wide, and he pushed past his cellmate, panicking, “Shit! I didn’t think of that!”

Without anything else to discuss, the two booked it from their cell, shoving their way down the bright yellow, metal stairs with conviction, keeping an eye out for Rochelle.  Suddenly, a headache-inducing high-pitched sound split through the cellblock, and a booming voice came over the PA system.  Nick grabbed Ellis’ shoulders, holding him in place, as the two froze to listen.

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!  Get yo’ worthless fuckin’ asses back in line! If you don’t, I’ll bitch and cry all night in this here office, where I sit on my ass, scarfin’ down doughnuts until I upchuck!” The voice was deep, and clearly meant to be an offensive mockery of Captain Coleman. Ellis immediately recognized it as Tommy Whitaker’s.  Apparently Nick did too, as he pulled Ellis a little closer, wrapping an arm protectively around him, and reaching for his shank.  Sharp, maniacal laughter came from the PA next, and Tommy’s real voice broke through.

“Ah, I’m just kidding! Looks like we’re under new management, though. You can all address me as Captain Whitaker, if you’d like. I’d like that, anyway, shows more respect than _officer_ , I think.  Anyway, Mr. Coleman is a bit…tied up right now, so I’m in charge, here.  Like the new arrangements I’ve made?”   

The prison roared with approval, and Ellis began to shake in fear.  Tommy had somehow managed to open up the entire cellblock and get into Coach's office, disposing of him somehow.  What were they going to do?

“I’d like to play a little game…have a fun little contest to kick off the festivities in honor of this wonderful new change in management!  I’ll make the rules short and sweet for you, that way you don’t get them confused.”

Ellis swallowed thickly, and he could feel Nick begin to tremble against him.

“I have Coleman here, with me in his office.  Now, Officer Coleman used to be a nice guy, right?  We liked him here.  But lately, he’s, uh, been trying to _opt out_ of some very important contracts with some of you prestigious young men.  Now, I don’t like to jump to conclusions, but I’ve heard that the first contract he broke was with my dear friend Nicholas Dillon.”

“Shit!” hissed Nick looking around for a place for the two of them to hide.  However, it wasn’t long before several eyes were on them.

“Now Nicholas, he liked his privacy. Poor, poor Nicholas.  And despite his promises, despite monetary  _payment,_  Officer Coleman decided to break a contract of his, and give him a cellmate.  Because _someone_ refused to leave poor Nicholas alone, and begged and begged until our dear Officer lost his mind, and broke the ever-so honorable contract he had with Nicholas.  And from there, he just couldn't stop. He's screwed _so many_ of you over."

"The inmate who started all of this?" Tommy chuckled, "His name is _Ellis McKinney_. New blood.  Whoever brings him to me in this office gets to slit Coleman’s neck, like the pig he is.”

The entire cellblock went silent for exactly two seconds.  And then, the real terror began.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since I updated this. I can't believe it's been that long. I've been incredibly busy with other projects, school, and life in general, but I don't do dead fics, so always expect me to update...eventually. Thank you so much to everyone who stuck around, stayed subscribed, and left kudos and comments. You remind me that this story is wanted.

Luckily, no matter how appealing the chance to murder the Captain of the Guard appeared, not all convicts were interested.  Adding time to one’s sentence wasn’t exactly desired by most sane people, and so, the people that Nick and Ellis needed to seriously avoid were slimmed down to those most likely spending the rest of their lives in prison. The convicts were still very much interested in the riot, however, and finding Rochelle was a top priority.

Ellis’ fist collided with another inmate's face, as a small group rushed them.  Nick gripped another by the throat, throwing him into the metal stairs behind them.  The convicts looking to cash in on Ellis’ bounty were crazed and sloppy.  It wasn’t difficult for Nick and Ellis to take them down.

“You okay, Overalls?” Nick turned to Ellis, wiping the sweat from his neck.

Ellis nodded, moving closer to Nick, making sure to stick together in the crowd.  His heart hammered wildly.  It had been a long time since he had gotten into any kind of physical fight.

“Come on, Knox!  I’ve seen you with the kid.  Tell me where he is and I’ll leave the lady officer alone,” Ellis heard a deep voice booming through the putrid mass of inmates.

“Fuck off, Tank.  He’s not giving you McKinney!” Rochelle’s voice snapped back.

Ellis spotted the debacle, going on at the opposite side of the cellblock.  A giant of a man, probably seven feet in height, with massive muscles and grotesque, bulging veins, had Rochelle lifted into the air.  A couple of feet away stood Francis, in a stand-off with the guy. 

Forcefully, the man pulled back Rochelle’s head by his hair, “Last chance, Knox. I will kill her.”

“Rochelle!” Ellis bolted towards the officer in peril without a second thought.

“Ellis, no!” Nick shouted after him, but it was no use.  He ran after his cellmate.

“Fiiiinally, someone with some sense around here,” grunted Tank, “Come with me to the captain’s office, McKinney, and I’ll put down Miss Hampton.  What’dya say?”

Rochelle shook her head to the best of her ability, glaring at Ellis.

“No deal, Tank!” hissed Nick, coming in from behind.

Rochelle gave a soft sigh of relief, “Nick!  Get this boy out of here!”

“We can’t leave you behind!” Ellis insisted, moving into a fighting stance, ready to pounce on the huge inmate that held her hostage.

Nick placed a steady hand on Ellis’ shoulder, “No, we can’t.”

And with that, Nick grabbed Ellis, shoving him into Francis with intense force. The kitchen staff convict took hold of Ellis, holding tightly to his upper arms.

“Francis, keep Ellis safe,” Nick barked, “I’ll take care of this.”

“Got’cha, brother,” Francis nodded.

Ellis wasn’t so keen on the idea of Nick taking on Tank by himself, however.

“Don’t be stupid, Nick!” he shouted, struggling against Francis’ iron grip.

Nick ignored Ellis. Taking a few steps toward Tank, he pulled out his shank. It glinted menacingly in the fluorescent lighting, as did Nick’s eyes.

Tank let out a laugh, before tossing Rochelle aside.  He pulled out his own blade, in turn.

Rochelle scrambled her way over to Ellis and Francis. Stripped of her gear, there was very little she could do to help.

Nick and Tank circled around one another, calculating, anticipating one another’s moves.

“Come on,” Francis commanded, pulling Ellis away from the two.

“Francis, we can’t just leave him!” Rochelle insisted, before Ellis could open his mouth.

“Yes we can!” Francis snarled, earning him a satisfied nod from Nick. He scooped up Rochelle in one arm and Ellis in the other, tearing away from their friend, leaving him to fight, alone.

Francis pushed his way through and out of the cellblock. No prisoners could make it out of A wing, but several doors throughout the building had been unlocked, it seemed.  Francis carried the two through a hallway, until they met a couple of convicts that Ellis recognized from the kitchens.

“Duke, Danny!” Francis greeted in a rush, “Take these two and put them in the maintenance closet. Guard it, and don’t let anyone in or out unless I say so, you got me?”

“Sure thing, man,” Danny replied, taking Ellis by the arm, while Duke took Rochelle, “Hey, isn’t this the guy Whitaker’s lookin’ for?”

“Yeah,” Francis said, “And you’d better make damn sure that he doesn’t find him,” he then turned to Rochelle and Ellis, “I’m going back to help Nick.”

“Man, who cares about Dillon?” Duke said.  Ellis growled in response.

“He’s one of us,” Francis insisted, “I’m not leavin’ him to get his entrails ripped out.”

“Wait!” Ellis called, as Francis moved to leave, “I wanna help!  I can’t-”

“I’m not risking it, kid!” Francis snapped back, “Get in the closet and wait!”

Ellis gritted his teeth in disdain, as Duke and Danny proceeded to shut he and Rochelle in.

“Shit!” Ellis snarled, punching the door angrily as it locked.

“Sweetie, you need to calm down,” Rochelle said, as she attempted to catch her breath.

“NO!” Ellis snarled, “You’re supposed to be in charge, here!  Why are you just lettin’ them fight this out!”

“Ellis,” Rochelle replied, narrowing her eyes in the dark, “They took my taser.  What am I supposed to do?  There’s a riot out there!  One woman isn’t going to end it on her own!”

“Then let me help!” Ellis pleaded desperately.  They were running out of time, and Ellis wasn’t sure that Francis and Nick could handle such a large advisary.  Nick had gotten torn apart during his last fight.

“Ellis, Whitaker is looking for _you_!” Rochelle snapped, “And once he has his hands on you, both you and the captain are dead!  Use your damn brains!  They’re in that head of yours, somewhere!”

Ellis went ridged.  Of course, she was right.  He was being childish, per usual.  The entire riot had been due to his struggles with Tommy.  If he had just stayed in solitary, like Hunter had, things would be fine.  He had to be stupid, instead, letting his curiosity about Nick get the better of him.

“I’m sorry, Rochelle,” he said, meekly, looking down into nothing.

“I know you want to help,” she replied, softly, “But getting caught isn’t going to do anyone any good right now.”

“I know,” he sighed.

Twenty minutes later, Ellis could hear the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor, outside.  His stomach gave an anxious jump

“Francis!” Duke shouted.

“I’m fine,” Ellis could hear Francis’ rough voice and gave a small sigh of relief, “It’s not deep. The bleeding will stop on its own.”

Ellis realized that he hadn’t heard anything from Nick.  He pounded at the door, “Hey!  What’s goin’ on?  Did ya both make it out alright?”

“I’m sorry, kid,” he heard Francis say, and his insides went to ice, “Nick, he’s-”

A shrill, piercing sound blasted its way through the A wing.  Ellis cringed and covered his ears.  The shouting from the cellblock died down a bit, and Tommy’s voice was heard once again.

“You boys disappoint me.  Two hours since I started this party, and I still haven’t received my gift.  Someone here was nice enough to pay his respects, though.  It wasn’t on my wish list, but I’m very grateful nonetheless!”

Ellis gripped Rochelle’s arm in fear.

“Mr. Tank, here, couldn’t deliver me Mr. McKinney.  He did deliver something, however.  One Nicholas Dillon, our good friend who was terribly betrayed by Captain Coleman.  Maybe if nobody shows up with Mr. McKinney, Nicholas would like to do the honors?  What do you think, Nick?”

There was a pause.  Ellis felt like vomiting.

“Aw, there’s no need to be shy, friend!”

Still nothing.

Then there was laughing, a crack, and a hiss.  Ellis was shaking violently.

“Bring me Ellis McKinney in the next two hours.  Or Tank gets the prize plus.”

The PA went offline.

“FRANCIS!”  Ellis began punching the door, frantically, “FRANCIS LET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”

“Ellis,” Rochelle put her hand on his shoulder.

“NO!” he shouted, shrugging her off, before violently lodging his foot into the wooden door.  He had kicked a decent sized hole into it.  He didn’t care.  Tommy had Nick, and Ellis wanted him back.

“Calm the fuck down!” Francis yelled, pounding back on the door, “We can’t just go rushing in, we need a plan!”

Ellis kicked the door again in response.

“Dammit!” Francis hissed, “Fine!  Let him out, boys.  Leave Officer Hampton.”

“You ain’t leavin’ me in here!” Rochelle exclaimed, angrily.

“I am,” Francis argued, “It’d be suspicious to bring a C.O. and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Bring?” Rochelle asked, as Danny went to open the door.

Ellis understood, though, and he was ready, “You’re handin’ me over in exchange for Nick and the captain, right?”

“That’s what they’re gonna think, anyway,” Francis nodded.

“No way!” Rochelle snapped, “That’s crazy!  They’ll kill him!”

“Not if we kill them first,” Francis gritted his teeth.

Rochelle looked at them, astounded, “You realize that I have to report that, right?”

“Go right ahead.  If it means saving the top officer in this place, I don’t think anyone is gonna be pressing charges,” Francis replied.

Danny locked the door behind Ellis.   Rochelle crouched, looking through the hole that Ellis had kicked.

“I swear to God, if you three don’t come back to me safely…”

“Love you too, Ro,” Francis snickered, kissing the tips of his fingers, and then crouching down to tap Rochelle on the nose.

“I could write you up for harassment for that,” she smirked.

“Yes you could,” Francis responded, grinning back.

He then turned to Duke and Danny, “Pretend that Ellis is still in there, if you can.  The last thing we need is a bunch of hungry cons on our heels.” 

The two assured that things would be fine, and Ellis and Francis set off for Coach's office.

They trudged down the halls in silence for a moment, before Francis pulled Ellis aside:

"Okay, kid.  This is gonna fucking suck, but we need to make the story believable.  I don’t doubt that Whitaker knows that we’ve been making nice, and you look kinda clean for someone being violently dragged against his will.”

“What are you suggestin’?” Ellis asked.

“I’m gonna hit you.”

“What?” Ellis took a step back.

“You need to be bleeding, or this ain’t gonna work, okay?” Francis insisted.

Ellis hesitated.  Francis was big, strong, and probably pulled one hell of a punch.  It made sense, however.  They couldn’t risk Tommy not believing Francis.  He was smart.  Tricking him was not going to be simple.

“Alright,” Ellis agreed, bracing himself.

Without any extra warning, Francis’ knuckles collided with Elllis’ nose.

“Tha’s definitely blood,” Ellis gurgled, after his back had slammed against the wall.  The pain wasn’t the worst he had had, and nothing felt broken, but it still fucking hurt, “Shit.”

“Come on,” Francis replied, blandly, pulling Ellis up by his shirt, pulling his arms behind his back, and gripping his hair, roughly.

“Watch it!” Ellis hissed painfully, as Francis shoved him along.

Francis didn’t respond, as they turned a corner and approached the office.

“Whitaker!” Francis roared outside the door, “I’ve got my arms full and I wanna make a trade!  Open the fucking door!”

They waited a moment, and then the door clicked.  It was Dash, who had opened the door.  His eyebrows furrowed in surprise, and he stepped back, to reveal Tommy, laid back in Coach’s chair, feet up on the desk.  It wasn’t Tommy Whitaker’s amused look that caught Ellis’ attention, though, but the people around him.

On one side of the Shark stood Tank, blood splattered across his shirt, face, and forearms, shank in hand.  Beside Tank lay a body, bleeding out all over the carpet.  With horror, Ellis identified the body as Warden Overbeck’s.

To the other side, Coach and Nick sat on the ground, side by side, as Vicky held the captain’s handgun to them.  Nick looked up at Ellis and Francis in terror and shock.

“Francis Knox!” Tommy smirked, “Well now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise!  Didn’t think you had it out for the captain that badly!  You have only a year left on your sentence after all, never killed before that I’m aware of,” the glint in his eyes was maniacal.

“I’m not here to kill him, Whitaker,” Francis snapped, “I told you, I want a trade.”

“I wasn’t aware that your relationship with Nicholas was quite so…personal.  And I didn’t think you be in such a hurry to turn in one of your own,” Tommy said.

“You fucking traitor,” Nick growled.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say about behavior?” Vicky shouted, waving the gun in Nick’s face.  Nick spat at him.

“Vick!  Stand down!” Tommy commanded.  Vicky reluctantly did as told.

“Nick’s a member of Hell’s Legion and we don’t leave brothers behind!” Francis said, defiantly, “Besides, I got no love lost for the ankle biter.  He was hell to catch, though, so I’m gonna need a little more incentive than just Nick. I want Coach, too.  Alive, not dead.  I don’t even wanna think about what you’re going to do to the kid.  But more people don’t need to die for your stupid revenge plot.”

Tommy sighed, “That wasn’t the deal, but I see that you’re not going to give up our friend Ellis, here, without some sort of compensation.  How about I hand over Mr. Dillon, and you leave the captain up to Mr. Tank’s discretion, hmm?”

“I think he’s already had enough fun,” Francis grunted, nodding to the warden’s corpse.

“And if I promise that he won’t be killed?” Tommy gave his most innocent face.

Francis paused for a moment before replying, “You good on your word, Whitaker?”

“I am an absolute gentleman about these matters, Mr. Knox.  Are you?”

Francis sighed, “I don’t have much choice.  I hate you, Whitaker, I hope you know that.”

Francis released Ellis, whose heart was pounding as he looked wildly around the room for some escape.  Francis hadn’t told him about any long-term plan for them to get out of the situation.

“Come here, El,” Tommy crooned, taking his feet off of the desk and spreading his legs, “Come sit in daddy’s lap.  I’ve missed you _so_ much.”

Francis shook his head, grabbing Ellis’ arm once more, “Release Nick.”

With a nod from Tommy, Vicky went to grab Nick from the floor.  As soon as his guard had gone down, however, Nick was on him.

Blood sprayed everywhere, and Vicky crumpled to the floor, neck sliced with a razorblade that Nick had somehow conjured up.  Nick grabbed for the gun, and Tommy got up to move.

“RO, NOW!” Francis shouted.

Suddenly, from the ceiling, came a mop handle, with a hand-made shank tied to the end.  The crudely made weapon plunged downward, right between Tommy’s legs.  Rochelle had been with them all along, and had removed the ceiling tile while attentions had been focused on Ellis and Francis.

Tommy’s horrific scream filled the air, and he was pinned to the chair.  Coach stood, attempting to run to the door. 

Tank moved in, taking a swipe at the group with his shank, cutting into Coach’s arm.  An ear-splitting “BANG” coursed through the room, and Tank lay dead on the floor, shot in the head. 

Dash had managed to scramble out of the room at the last moment, making a swift getaway.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Tommy howled from the desk chair.  He couldn’t move, however, in fear of damaging his penis further.

“Come on!” Rochelle called from the ceiling, offering her hand. 

One by one, they each climbed onto the desk, making their way into the prison ceiling and away from Tommy Whitaker.

“How the hell did you know Ro was gonna follow us?” Ellis asked Francis, as the five crawled to safety.

“Like she’d ever stay out of the action,” Francis laughed.

Rochelle chuckled in response, “Damn right.  I got the shank from one of your boys, though, Francis.  Know anything about that?”

“No, ma’am,” Francis lied.

“I really appreciate ya’ll saving my ass back there,” Coach said, softly, “It’s a shame about the warden, though.  Bill was a good guy. ”

“What happened?” Ellis asked, remembering the body that they had left in the office to rot with the convicts.

“He tried to save me. That’s all I know. I’ll learn more when I get outside, I’m guessin’,” Coach replied, sadly.

“He had to play the damned hero,” Nick sighed.

“So did we,” Ellis remarked.  He was overwhelmingly happy to hear Nick’s voice again.

“Yeah,” Nick glanced back, a mixture of anger, worry, and amusement all pent up in his eyes and voice, “And don’t you dare ever do it again.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few months! This chapter is rather short, but I have longer ones in store next. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far, your messages and feedback make me really happy!

The aftermath of the riot unsurprisingly consisted of a very long lockdown.  With two guards and the warden killed for the fun of it, the state did what it could to make sure that the inmate populace had time to think about what they had done. 

Coach, as Captain of the Guard, was standing in as warden for the time being.  Only time would tell if the position would be permanent.

Nick and Ellis had taken to reading together in their cell, curled up together in Nick’s bunk.  Typically, they read the same book or newspaper, trying to use up their reading materials as slowly as possible, afraid to run out.  Ellis would give a slight nod into the crook of Nick’s neck every time he had finished their current page, as Nick was a much faster reader than him.  Nick would then proceed to turn the page, and they would do it all over again.

Nick, while slightly uncomfortable with the arrangement, never said anything.  Ellis clearly felt safe, pressed against his side, and Nick had no intentions of taking that away.

Almost losing Ellis had been far more terrifying than Nick had anticipated it might be.  Ellis had gotten himself caught up with a bad group at the beginning of his sentence, and he wasn’t the most logical of people.  These things alone, Nick had thought, had prepared him for the inevitability of Ellis’ death in some form or another.  He had never been able to stop it before, after all, the destruction of Whitaker’s victims.  Ellis would inevitably prove to be no different.

But Ellis _was_ different.

Ellis never gave up.  He was one of –if not _the_ – most determined people Nick had ever had the displeasure of meeting.  And he still managed a note of positivity despite the situation, greeting Nick with the same bright smile every time they locked eyes.  His boundless energy, his boundless love for those he held dear, and his boundless, if not a bit ill-advised, courage in the face of terrible adversary was astounding. 

Nick had never been more baffled by a human being in his entire life.  And the shiny new heart palpitations and stomach cramps he had been getting weren’t helping any.  Just symptoms from all of the recent stress, probably.

Ellis gave a soft sigh, pressing his cheek to Nick’s shoulder and closing his eyes, “You can keep readin’ if you want. I’ll catch up. I think it’s nap time,” he muttered.  There were the palpitations again.

Nick was in deep trouble, probably.

The two of them sat like that for a while, Ellis breathing deeply and Nick nervously flipping through pages, focusing more on the heat Ellis’ body was giving off than the words in front of him.

Hesitantly, Nick moved to brush a stray curl from Ellis’ face.  As he did so, however, there was a clanging at the bars of the cell.

Ellis jumped in alarm, “Niiiiiick,” he groaned, unamused at his own waking.

The two turned to see Rochelle standing outside of their cell.  Nick flinched immediately, connecting the way Rochelle was giggling with the tangled up position he and Ellis were in.

“Uhm…wow,” she snickered, covering her mouth, “I wasn’t expecting…am I disturbing something?”

“Yeah, Ro, my beauty sleep,” Ellis gently chided, wriggling out of Nick’s lap.  Nick helped him along by giving him a solid shove off of the bunk.

“Shit!” Ellis yelped as he hit the ground, “What’d’ya do that for, Nick?”  He stood up, rubbing his backside in pain.

“I…uh…” Nick stuttered, “Sorry?”

“Hoo, boy,” Rochelle breathed, “Nick, I have never seen you quite so flustered in my life.”

Nick could only stare daggers at her, trying hard to fight the blood he knew was rushing to his face.

Ellis looked back and forth between the both of them, questioningly.

“Anyway,” Rochelle chuckled, “I stopped by to grab the two of you.  Coach wants to see you two and Francis in the warden’s office.  Probably to thank you.”

“But we’re in lockdown,” Ellis stated.

“Coach is warden, for now,” Rochelle replied, “If he wants you, then it’s my job to fetch you,” she shrugged, “OPEN ON 127!”

The two convicts sluffed their way out from their cells, being led out of the cellblock.  A few moments into their trek, however, Ellis suddenly stopped, letting out a horrified gasp and his face turning a bright pink.

“I jus’ realized what you…! …We weren’….”

Nick was quick to cover his own face in embarrassment.  _Shit._

Rochelle let out a screech of high pitched laughter.

“No Ro!  It wasn’!  I mean…” Ellis scrambled to find the right words to say, letting out a flustered mess of half-sentences out, instead.

Rochelle continued to laugh, until she was grasping Nick’s shoulder, gasping for breath.

“Oh my God…” Nick groaned, insides churning with annoyance and embarrassment.

“Okay…okay…” Rochelle breathed, as she finally began to calm down, “Let’s…keep moving.  Unless there’s anything you two want to say to each other?”

The two convicts didn’t dare look at one another again until they reached the warden’s office.

Francis was already sitting in a chair, opposite Coach, when they got there.

“Gentlemen, sit down, please,” Coach greeted warmly as Nick, Ellis, and Rochelle entered the room.  The captain looked as if he had aged ten years since the riot.

“I want to thank you all for saving my life last week,” he began, “You don’ owe me anything, an’ you were all targeted by that freakshow, but you tried to help anyway.  You have my deepest gratitude.”

“I think ya’ll’ll be happy to know,” Coach continued, “That Whitaker, even with expansive surgery could only keep a single inch of his dick, due to Rochelle’s expert skills with a mop-shank.”

That brightened Nick’s disposition entirely.  The things that Tommy Whitaker put Hunter and Smoker through, the things he had tried to put Ellis through, would be significantly less possible.

“That’s our girl!” Francis cheered, earning him a smile from Rochelle.

“But there’s another problem,” Coach sighed, “We don’t know how Whitaker managed to open the cellblock an’ get into my office.  One of the officers had to have helped him.”

Any lightheartedness that had warmed the room previously had dissipated.

“Rochelle an’ I are gonna be investigatin’ the entire staff, but chances are that one of the officers killed in the riot is our culprit.  I know it ain’t right of me to ask ya’ll to snitch, but if you find anything out, let me know. Please. I cannot let this happen again,” Coach said, somberly, dark eyes glistening with determination.

“Uh course!” Ellis growled, “There’s no way in hell whoever did this is getting’ away with it!” his eyes reflected Coach’s.

“Good man,” Coach gave a beaming smile, “I think that’s about it.  Rochelle, could you please take Francis and Ellis out for a moment?  I’d like to talk to Nick in private.”

Nick blinked in surprise, “Why me?”

Without a word, Rochelle swiftly took Ellis and Francis each by the arm, leading them out of the room.  Coach got up and closed the door behind her.  Nick’s palms began to sweat.

“Nick, you’ve been trying to stop Whitaker since he got here, haven’ you?” Coach said, returning to the desk.

“Y-Yes.  The guy’s a dick.  We didn’t get along before-”

“Nick,” Coach cut him off, “I’m willing to help you with an appeal, if you want.  No bribes.  I’ve seen you in action, an’ I don’ believe you deserve a life sentence.  I’m honestly not sure if you deserve to be here at all, really.”

Nick swallowed thickly, “I murdered Horace Charger.”

“Yeah,” Coach laughed, disbelievingly, “An’ every time I hear the story, it changes.  Did he rape his daughter, or didn’ he?  Did you beat him to death, did yeh suffocate him?”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek, quickly tasting the iron tang of blood on his tongue.

“I read your case file, Nick.  There’s no report of rape anywhere in it.  And according to the evidence Horace Charger was stabbed-”

“Seven times, I know,” Nick hissed, “Inmates spread stories all the time, boss, I know how I killed the guy.  I was there, remember? Or does the case file omit that, too?”

“Don’t get smart with me, boy,” Coach said, lowering his eyelids in annoyance, “Just know that I’m willing to help, Nick.”

Nick’s stomach churned uncomfortably.  He could taste the bile at the back of his throat.

“Thanks Coach, but I’m not planning to appeal.  I think we’re done here.”

He vomited exactly 35 seconds after he and Ellis were returned to their cell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Again, it has been a while since my last update. Thanks so much to everyone out there who've supported me with kind words and readership. It means a lot!

“An’ then I said ‘Keith, there’s no way you can eat ten whole ghost chilies! You’re gonna scorch all your taste buds right off!’. But he did it! All ten of ‘em! Dave had to take him to the emergency room after that, though, on account ‘uh the pain,” Ellis prattled, as he and Francis sat on the bleachers, enjoying the Georgia sunlight.

Francis didn’t respond, however. His mind was clearly elsewhere, as he stared off into the distance. Ellis followed his sightline, until he found what it was, that had his friend so distracted.

Across the yard, and on the other side of the fence, stood Rochelle, speaking to one of the other officers. She was speaking animatedly, moving her hands and grinning widely.

“You really like her, don’ yeh, buddy?” Ellis laughed, pointedly, nudging Francis with his arm.

“No shit,” Francis replied, looking down at his boots.

Ellis’ amusement morphed into a pang of concern, as Francis’ eyebrows knitted together, in a look of distress. Somehow, he felt as if he understood.

“She won’ cross that line, though,” Ellis stated, tone much less jovial.

“No, she won’t,” Francis said, “And I don’t blame her, either. She’s riskin’ her job as it is, palin’ around with us. If she knew that I…” Francis crinkled his nose in self-disgust.

Ellis looked up to him, silently urging him to continue.

“Ah, kid. I love her, okay?” Francis snapped, digging the palms of his hands into his eye sockets and rubbing fiercely, “I’m in love with a fuckin’ guard.”

“I don’ exactly think that’s a secret, Francis,” Ellis said, offering a soft, kind smile.

“Oh, and you and Nick are?” Francis shot, defensively.

Ellis’ face instantly began to heat up, “We’re not – we’re not doin’ anything! I know we’re close an’ all, but we ain’t…like, queer or nothin’. Nick had a wife, y’ know!” Why was it that everyone wanted him so flustered over Nick lately?

 _"Had_ bein’ the key word, squirt,” Francis chuckled.

“We ain’t talkin’ about Nick right now, is we?” Ellis snapped back, “We’re talkin’ about you and Ro.”

“Me and Ro don’t matter,” Francis insisted, “She could lose her job if I even talked about it to her y’ know. I’m not risking that.”

“You really think that Coach would fire her?” Ellis asked, skeptically.

“If it got out and the state forced his hand, yeah,” Francis nodded, sternly.

“I think you’d have to start an affair for it to ‘get out’,” Ellis replied, not giving up on the topic, despite Francis’ stern demeanor.

“And what’s the point of telling her, if we ain’t startin’ an affair?” Francis chuckled, looking up and squinting into the sunlight.

Ellis didn’t know what to say. Francis was so hopelessly in love with Rochelle, and, quite obviously to Ellis, Rochelle was quite fond of Francis. They were both his friends. Hell, they were practically family at that point. He would have done anything to see them happy together. But Rochelle was a correctional officer, and Francis was an inmate.

"Where is Nick, anyway?” Francis asked, cutting through Ellis’ thoughts.

“Phones,” Ellis replied. Nick hadn’t said so, but Ellis had no doubt that he was on the phone with the man who had been bringing Gret around. He was a lawyer of some sort, named Louis. That was all Ellis had managed to gather.

Nick had come back from the warden’s office, throwing up almost as soon as the door had locked. Ellis had panicked, rubbing firm circles into Nick’s back as he clutched the toilet. Nick had mentioned something about food poisoning, and Ellis insisted on getting someone to take him to the infirmary. And while Nick had obliged, he had been back to their cell by count, sickness free.

Even beyond that, it wasn’t uncommon for Ellis to turn to see Nick, clutching at his face or stomach, eyes wide and staring into nothing. He would brush Ellis off every time he checked to make sure he was okay, of course, but Ellis knew better. He could hear the conman cry at night.

Ellis sighed and stood from the bleachers. He hadn’t pushed the issue since the night of the riot, but the feeling that Nick had hid something from him wasn’t lost in the slightest. His gut churned at the thought.

“Where are you goin’?” Francis asked, with mild demandingness in his voice.

“I need to talk to Ro,” Ellis replied, stepping down.

“Wha- Don’t you dare go matchmaker on me, now, Ellis.”

“I’m not,” Ellis insisted, “I gotta talk to her about somethin’ else.”

“ _Somethin’ else_ ,” Francis scoffed, waving his hand, but letting Ellis go.

For the first time, Ellis crossed the prison yard, alone, without fear of Tommy lurking in the shadows. He owed the liberating feeling in his chest to his new friends. To Rochelle, Coach, Francis, and Nick. Especially to Nick.

He took in a deep breath, smelling the crisp and ashy air, before approaching the fence. Rochelle’s companion had left her standing alone.

“Ro.”

“Ellis,” Rochelle smiled as she turned, “What’s up?” Her face fell, however, when she saw his nervous disposition.

“Ro, I…I’m really worried about Nick,” he said, softly, as his heart pounded away in his chest. “I think he might be in trouble.”

 "What d’ you mean?” she asked, giving Ellis her full attention.

“It’s…I don’ mean to scare y’ none, but he’s been actin’ real sick lately. He throws up, he has nightmares, an’ I don’ know what to do,” Ellis explained. “There’s been this man…who’s been visitin’ him. He takes Nick’s step-daughter with him sometimes. I think it’s been gettin’ to him.”

“You know about that?” Rochelle gasped, moving an inch forward, to lean against the fence.

“Nick told me everything,” Ellis replied. “About how he ended up here. About Gret.”

“Oh… Oh, Ellis,” Rochelle stuttered, “I had no idea. I mean, I’m so glad he’s trustin’ someone else with this. It’s been so hard, being the only one who knows that he didn’t kill that man.” Her eyes glittered with tears.

“He…didn’…” Ellis felt his heart skip a beat, “What d’ you mean, he didn’ kill him?” There it was, the proof of Nick’s deceit.

Rochelle covered her mouth with a hand, taking a step back. “What…what did he tell you?”

“That he killed Gret’s dad,” Ellis replied, voice cracking slightly, “That he beat ‘em to death when he caught him…hurtin’ her…sexually.”

Rochelle shook her head. “Dammit, Nick,” she muttered, irritably.

“Ro?” Ellis shivered, looking to her for answers.

Rochelle sighed, “I’m sorry, Ellis. I really hoped… Well, I thought that if anyone could get through to him, it’d be you.”

“What d’ y' mean?” Ellis asked, shifting from foot to foot, anxiously.

“Ellis, I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. You don’t need to hide it.”

“People keep sayin’ things like that,” Ellis replied, biting his lip, “But it ain’t like that, really. Nick don’t have feelin’s for me. Not like that.”

“What about you?” Rochelle asked, gently.

“That doesn’ matter right now,” Ellis said, not bothering to argue, “Ro, tell me what’s goin’ on. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Ellis,” Rochelle said, shaking her head, sadly, “It isn’t my place. If you want the real story, you’re going to have to get it from Nick.”

With that, Rochelle turned to leave, before she could spill anymore details. Ellis stood, staring after her in disbelief.

Nick hadn’t killed Horace Charger. But Horace Charger was dead, wasn’t he? And Nick was in prison for his murder. Did the courts just get it wrong? If so, why would Nick lie to him. It just didn’t make sense.

The smell of heat and cheap floral soap enveloped his senses, and, suddenly, a body collided with Ellis from behind. Familiar arms snaked around his waist, moving up to hook under his armpits. Hands clutched at the front of Ellis’ shoulders.

“Hey, Fireball.”

Ellis yelped at the surprise contact, as Nick buried his face into Ellis’ hair.

“N-Nick,” Ellis stuttered, leaning in slightly.

Nick let out a long breath, and shuddered, before letting go.

Ellis turned to face Nick. “You okay?” he asked, quite taken aback by Nick’s sudden affection. Something horrible had to have happened.

“Yeah,” Nick replied, voice coming out in a high pitched crack. He definitely wasn’t okay.

“Nick…” Ellis brought a hand up, brazing his knuckles gently against Nick’s face. Nick didn’t flinch away.

“I…It’s nice…you know. Having someone around that’s got your back.”

“…Yeah,” Ellis nodded, offering Nick a brave disposition, trying his best to put on a happy face.

Nick let out a soft chuckle, before brushing Ellis’ hand aside, “Come on, Overalls. Francis owes me a cribbage re-match.”

Together, they walked back over to the bleachers, Ellis’ mind a torrent of questions and confliction all the while.


End file.
